


To tell the truth

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Karen Needs a Hug, Secrets Revealed, lots of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season 2. Karen tells Matt about killing Wesley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To tell the truth

**Author's Note:**

> This happens some time after my first post-season 2 effort, To repair the things that have been broken. But I think it stands alone all right, all you need to know from that one is they're back together.

Karen has a secret. And that’s a problem, because when she and Matt put their relationship back together, they agreed not to keep any more secrets from each other. She knows she ought to tell him. It isn’t fair to him to hide something that might change what he thinks of her forever, but she’s afraid. Afraid to lose his good opinion, afraid to destroy the hard-won happiness they’ve finally found together. Wilson Fisk’s nameless henchman, punctured by leaking, red bullet holes, haunts her and demands that she confess.

So far, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to tell Matt what she did. But she raises the subject indirectly, picking at the edges like a band-aid she’s afraid to rip off.

“Would you ever kill someone? Under any circumstances?” she asks him one night. They’re at Matt’s place, sitting together on the couch, talking about some of Daredevil’s latest activities.

Matt sighs. He wants to say no, but he knows, even if Karen doesn’t, that he once tried to kill Wilson Fisk. The _circumstances_ that night included the fact that he’d already been beaten half to death by Nobu, and so he barely got away from Fisk with his own life intact. His soul was spared the stain of murder only by the weakness of his body.

He hedges his answer. “I hope I never have to find out. If I ever cross that line, it would change me. Into what, I don’t know. But I know I couldn’t keep on believing that I’m doing good in the world, if I ended someone’s life.”

Karen’s heart sinks. “But not everyone who kills is bad, are they?” she argues, anxious dread in the pit of her stomach. “It’s easy to call someone a monster, if you don’t know the situation, or why they did it.”

Matt knows what she’s thinking, or thinks he does. She was Frank Castle’s staunchest defender until he disappeared. She refused to believe that he was a monster, and that compassion is one of the things Matt has always loved about her. But the wrongs done to Frank don’t excuse his actions. Matt feels some sympathy for the man himself, but he’s never doubted that his killing spree was terribly, unequivocally, wrong.

“Monster or not, taking a life is a thing that can never be undone. No one has the right to make that choice, to end someone else’s entire existence.”

Karen’s dread grows stronger. This is exactly what she’d been afraid of—that to Matt, killing is an absolute wrong that he can’t forgive. He’ll condemn her. He’ll reject her. But she has to tell him, it’s the only right thing to do.

Matt hears her heart rate climbing, her breath growing shallow. He smells the sweat breaking out on her skin, the chemicals of stress leaking out her pores. He’s puzzled by the strength of her distress, but still thinks it’s out of sympathy for Frank. “Killing is wrong, Karen,” he says gently. “You can’t keep on defending Frank Castle forever.”

“Frank?” She feels a moment of sheer surprise, but it’s not enough to hold back the misery threatening to engulf her. “Matt, I’m not talking about Frank.” She resigns herself to her fate, and forces the words out. “I’m talking about myself. I killed a man. Me.”

Matt sits motionless. Time seems to stop. This isn’t right, he must have misheard somehow. Karen didn’t, she _can’t_ have just said that she killed a man. But no, he knows that’s wishful thinking. She said it, and with her heartbeat thundering in his ears he knows it’s the truth. He sinks for a moment into a welter of shock and confusion. He thinks of Elektra, with a sick feeling in his stomach. _Not again. Please, not Karen, too._

But he quickly dismisses the thought. Surely, Karen isn’t like Elektra. _A man_ , she said. Singular. Karen is no practiced killer, and if once in her life she’s been driven to extremes…his brain starts working again, looking for ways to exonerate her. “Self-defense?” he asks tentatively, seizing on the law’s great excuse for homicide.

“You tell me,” she says, watching him closely, her voice strained. “My life wasn’t in immediate danger. But he was threatening me. And you, for that matter, and Foggy. He threatened to kill me and everyone I care about if I didn’t do what he said.”

“Who…?”

“I never knew his name, he worked for Wilson Fisk. The one who hired you and Foggy, to defend that guy from the bowling alley.”

“Him?” As much as Matt doesn’t want to believe any of this, it makes sense. “When we took down Fisk, he should have been caught in the crash. I wondered where he’d disappeared to.”

“He was already dead, in an empty warehouse. I shot him with his own gun.”

“But what did he want from you?”

Karen shudders, remembering. “He wanted me to convince Ben, and you and Foggy, and anyone else who was opposing him, that Fisk was a good guy. That he was going to save the city. And if I refused, they would kill all my friends, all my family, and leave me until last, so I’d have to see everyone I love die.” Her voice goes a little wobbly, but her hands are fisted on her knees, her whole body tense with anger. Matt takes one of her hands and uncurls it, lacing his fingers with hers.

“When was this? When did he ever talk to you alone?” Surely he would have noticed some change in her. Taking a man’s life couldn’t possibly leave her unaffected, not if she’s the good person he needs to believe she is…unless the change had come when he was too preoccupied to pay attention properly. The truth begins to dawn on him, even as she answers his question.

“It was when you and Foggy were fighting, right after he found out about you. It was—“ a lump comes into her throat. “It was the day I came to see you, when you were hurt, and I brought you a balloon. Later, that night.” She has to stop to fight down the tears before she can continue.

“But—“ He’s thinking back. “I saw you that night, you were at the office late when I came in.” But now he remembers, he knew something was wrong. She _was_ different, she was changed from the Karen he’d talked to—lied to—that morning. She’d smelled strongly of alcohol, and everything about her had screamed stress and exhaustion. He had asked her…

“I asked you, Did something happen? and you said, The world fell apart.” Now that he knows what she meant, he’s horrified, and appalled at himself that he’d been so wrapped up in his own troubles that he just let it go.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth, I couldn’t tell you I’d just shot someone. I never have told anyone, until now.” She watches his face, looking for a reaction, but it’s hard to read much beyond the fact that he’s deeply upset.

He squeezes her hand gently, and asks, “What happened?”

So she tells him. About being grabbed from behind, a hand clapped over her mouth, blacking out. Waking up in the warehouse, to face Fisk’s henchman. She holds both of Matt’s hands, staring down at them, gripping them tightly as she tells him about the demands, the threats, the gun placed so conspicuously on the table to intimidate her. An impossible choice, with no way out that she could see.

“And then his phone rang. He turned away from me to take it out of his pocket, and I jumped up and grabbed the gun.” She’s breathing quickly, her heart racing as she relives it. “And he tried to bluff me—he said, Do you really think I’d leave a loaded gun where you could reach it? But he didn’t take his eyes off me. And he didn’t answer his phone. He started to stand up, and I, I pulled the trigger.” She gulps. “And then I just kept on pulling it. Six, seven times, until he stopped moving. I knew he was dead, most of the shots hit him in the chest. And I ran. I took the gun with me, and threw it in the river.” She heaves a sigh, relieved to have gotten to the end, even as she dreads what Matt will say.

Matt sits silent, feeling a burning anger building inside him. Toward Wilson Fisk, corrupting everything he touches, forcing people to do his bidding by threatening their loved ones. Toward his nameless lieutenant, who drove a good person into a corner so tight that her only way out was to kill. Toward himself, for failing to protect her, for failing to even give her any comfort after the fact.

When he doesn’t speak, Karen glances up, and sees the harsh, unforgiving expression on his face. “Oh, no,” she whispers, and the tears she’s been holding back finally spill over. “Oh, Matt, no, don’t look at me like that!” She pulls away from him and buries her face in her hands, sobbing.

“What—oh my god, no, Karen, sweetheart, I wasn’t—I’m sorry!” He puts a hand on her shaking shoulder. “Whatever you saw, whatever was on my face, I swear it wasn’t directed at you. I’m sorry.”

She looks at him, and through her tears she sees his distress and guilt. She lowers her hands, choking back a sob. He gathers her into his arms, and she curls up against him, trembling, and puts her head on his shoulder. She can’t stop the tears immediately, they’ve been bottled up too long. But he holds her, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances until she grows calm.

“I wasn’t condemning you, I was condemning myself,” he tells her quietly. “After all my talk about keeping you safe, where was I when you needed help? You were kidnapped off your own doorstep, and where was I?”

“You were in bed, I hope. Matt, you could barely walk. And you couldn’t possibly have known I was in danger. You can’t feel guilty about that.”

He’s starting to get a little choked up himself. “But I love you, Karen, your safety is one of the most important things in the world to me. And I wasn’t there for you. Of course I feel guilty.” It doesn’t even occur to him that he’s just told her he loves her, for the first time, it slipped out so naturally. But Karen goes perfectly still in his arms, and repeats his words.

“You...love me?” she asks, her voice full of hope and disbelief.

A look of consternation flashes across his face, but it’s followed by a small smile. “Yes. I hadn’t imagined telling you like this, but I do. I love you.” He brushes the tears from her cheeks, then bends his head to press his forehead against her hair and whisper it in her ear. “I love you.”

Karen wants so much to believe it. But.

“I killed someone, Matt.”

“I know you did.” He sighs, his breath warm on her skin.

“You said—“

“I know what I said. But you are not a monster. You were backed into a corner, and desperate. That man was trying to force you to convince the world that Fisk was a hero, to betray your own beliefs, to _help_ Fisk harm countless others. You were forced into an impossible situation, and you acted to protect yourself and the people you care about.”

As much as she’d dreaded condemnation, now she argues against an absolution she’s not sure she deserves. “I took a life. You said no one has that right. You can’t make different rules for me because you love me.”

He frowns, pulling his thoughts together. “I was thinking about Frank when I said that. He had no qualms of conscience, no doubts about what he was doing. No compunction at all about killing anyone that he decided deserved it. He called me a half-measure, a coward, someone who couldn’t finish the job. And he said—he said I’m just one bad day away from being him.”

“Oh, Matt, no.” She strokes his cheek. “He’s wrong, you know he’s wrong.”

“He’s not as wrong as I’d like him to be,” Matt admits. “I don’t kill. But sometimes…sometimes I want to.” It’s not easy to say, and he realizes how hard it must have been for Karen to tell him what she’s done. “Not often. But I understand the temptation. And I have the ability. I could bash a man’s skull in, or break his neck. That’s why I’m so adamant, I have to believe that I’m not like Frank. I _have_ to believe that killing is wrong, categorically, because sometimes that’s the only thing that stops me.”

“But then how can you make excuses for me?”

“Because the circumstances matter.”

“Matt, you just said it’s wrong categorically.”

“It is for me.” That sounds muddled, even to him, and Karen’s not buying it.

“So you’re holding yourself to a higher standard than me?”

He thinks about it. “Yes. I am. Because I’m in much greater danger of killing than you. I go out at night looking for a fight, against the worst people I can find. And I can kill with my bare hands. I _should_ be held to a higher standard. I have to be, to do what I do and not become corrupted.”

She can understand the distinction he’s making, but it still doesn’t sit quite right with her. “It still sounds like you’re saying you need to be held accountable for your actions, but I don’t. And I’m not as blameless as you think.” Now that she’s finally telling him, she needs to tell him all of it.

“When I did it,” she says hesitantly. “When I shot him, I…it all happened so fast. But I.” She swallows, and forces herself to continue. “I enjoyed it. After it was done, I was horrified. But when I picked up the gun, I felt strong. Powerful. He thought I was weak, and powerless. And it was so satisfying to take him down. Permanently, so he could never, never hurt me or my friends.”

Matt sighs. “I can understand that. It _is_ satisfying, to get the better of someone like that. But I don’t think it makes you a bad person, because you did feel horrified after.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “So do I sometimes, after the things I’ve done, even without killing.” He takes a hard breath, and leans his cheek against her head, rubbing it in her hair. “And it still horrifies you, all these months later. The monsters are the ones who can kill and feel no remorse. You’re not like that.”

“Neither are you,” she whispers. He always seems so sure of himself as Daredevil, no matter the uncertainties of his daytime life. It’s strange to hear him talk about temptation, and remorse for his actions. But it makes her feel closer to him—even Daredevil is only human, and imperfect. They have a lot in common.

“Do you have nightmares?” she asks him.

“Do you?”

“Not anymore. At least—not for a while now. Maybe dredging it all back up like this will bring them back. I hope not.” She shudders, and his arms tighten around her. “The night that it happened, I did. After I drank enough booze to be able to fall asleep, I dreamed that Fisk was sitting in my bedroom. And he talked to me, about what it meant to kill someone. A man’s entire life, all his past history, gone forever. Because of me.” She shudders again. “Then he attacked me, and I woke up terrified. But it was because of what he said that I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. So I got up, and came into the office, because I couldn’t bear to be alone with myself.”

Matt strokes her hair. “And I was too wrapped up in my own problems to be any help to you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was glad you didn’t ask a lot of questions. You must have known I was upset, Foggy did. If you’d pressed me, I don’t know what lie I could have come up with. It was a relief that you were both willing to accept it as just the effects of everything else that was going on.”

“I still wish I could’ve helped.”

“I wish you could, too. But I don’t see how. I just had to struggle through it on my own. I was afraid, you know, that it would be traced back to me somehow. I had nightmares for weeks, even after Fisk was locked up. When I told you that you and Foggy were the only good things in my life, I meant it more than you knew.”

“Well, I know one thing,” says Matt. “You don’t need a gun in your hand to be strong. I think you’re one of the strongest, bravest people I’ve ever met. It can’t have been easy, telling me all this.”

“No. I’ve been so afraid of how you might react. But I knew I had to. After Fisk was put away, I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind. But then you told me your secrets, and then we started to get closer again, and I just felt worse and worse about keeping it from you. I knew it might be a deal-breaker for you, but that just meant that I owed you the truth.”

She cups his face between her hands. “I love you,” she tells him, and watches his face fill with surprised happiness. “I love you. And if you turned against me over this, I don’t know how I’d bear it. But I couldn’t let you be with me under false pretenses. Now you know the worst, and if you still want me—“

He leans forward and kisses her lips, once, very gently. “I still want you,” he says.

“You really don’t think I’m bad?”

“No, not at all. You did the best you could, when all the choices you had were bad. I don’t know what else you could have done. And if you think you need to be held accountable for your actions, I’d say you have been. Your own conscience has punished you, even if no one else has.” He hugs her close, and she tucks her face against his neck. She smiles, and takes a deep, shaky breath. It’s all right. She told him the truth, and the world didn’t end. The relief almost makes her want to cry again. She relaxes into his embrace, suddenly exhausted.

“Matt? Can I sleep here tonight? I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Of course.” He’d been going to offer, but he takes it as a measure of just how shaken up she is that she would ask for help, instead of insisting she can take care of herself. They have a lot in common.

“I might have nightmares.”

“All the more reason why you shouldn’t have to be alone. Please, stay.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, meaning much more than just for letting her sleep in his bed.

“You’re welcome,” he answers, to all of it, and kisses her forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, that's not Karen's only secret. But since we still don't know what happened in her past, I didn't want to get into it. I'm guessing it's less extreme than killing someone, though, even if it did involve shooting someone. I deliberately had her say "Now you know the worst," and not "Now you know everything." She'll have to tell him her other secrets some time, but not today!


End file.
